Sweet Polly Oliver
by Wikitiki99
Summary: This is probably the third most ridiculous thing he's ever done. Well, it's somewhere in his top ten.


"Okay, team, the big game'll be here before we know it."

The quarterback's eyes hold thinly masked dismay as he looks at his gathered teammates. As usual, they're a sorry lot, made even sorrier by the addition of Montana Max (their curiosity about Monty doing such a thing has subsided, but his constant complaining about his butler forcing him to join the team has not). They're all slumped and worn-looking, and Buster's reminders of their victory last season has done nothing to lift their or his own spirits.

"And assuming none of you are going to double-cross us," here Buster looks quite pointedly at Max, who is busily playing with his cell phone and presumably ignoring Buster, "the Perfectoids aren't going to try to beat us from the inside." Buster begins pacing, hoping the movement will catch more of their attentions and maybe even be wonderfully dramatic like a movie or something. Yeah. Dramatic. "They've got to have something on their side, some sort of-"

"Secret weapon?"

Buster's pacing turns out to be short-lived, and heads turn toward Max. "Yeah, like-"

Monty takes on the air of someone reading something incredibly stupid. "'Got secret weapon. Not letting it out of my sight. Acme Loosers won't know what's coming.' You know, I hope Roderick knows this is a public website, because if he thinks only certain people can-"

"That's it! The secret weapon! Roderick has it!"

"Why, Holmes, you've done it again," Max mutters, not taking his eyes off his phone. Buster glares, but softens when Monty speaks again. "'Got my tuxedo picked out for big before-game party. More expensive than your house and has a special pocket for you-know-what.' Either that's your game winner or Roderick is a creep."

"Now find out how we steal it!" Plucky is practically bouncing up and down he's so excited.

"That's all I've got."

"What?"

Max looks up finally, not very amused. "This isn't a magic phone, Duck. That's all Roderick wrote about it. He'll be at the before-game party and it'll be in one of his pockets."

"Okay then, let's party!"

Buster looks pained as he speaks. "Uh, I'm pretty sure you need a ticket to get in or something."

Plucky is unfazed, and looks quite proud of himself as he pulls two tickets from his hammerspace.

"Sweet!" Babs says, plucking the tickets out of hand. "How'd you nab them?"

"I convinced Margo to go with me right after she and whats-his-face broke up." He frowns. "But then they made up. I guess she forgot about me having the tickets."

"Great! Me and Buster can go and-"

"You two? They'll throw you out in a second. I bought the tickets, I should be the one who-"

"No offense, Plucky, but I think we need some feminine help, and I trust you to not screw this up on some level less than I'd trust Monty not to."

Buster can practically see the light bulb going on over Plucky's head. "That's it, Monty should go!"

"I should what now?"

"I mean, he's sort of a horrible, cheating jerk. They'll like him and they'll trust him!"

"That's not really how-"

"You know, you actually have a point." Babs seems amazed by this revelation.

So does Plucky. "I do?"

"Seriously, I don't think I-"

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Buster rubs his forehead, probably nursing a rising headache "But it's settled, then. Monty and Babs'll go to the party and nab the secret weapon."

"Do I get a say in this or-"

"Fifi, come on, it's time to go dress shopping!"

X

"Aw, you clean up sort of okay-ish."

Monty bats Babs' hands away from his face. "C'mon Rabbit, I haven't got all night." He starts walking, but stops when he realizes Bab's isn't quite going his pace.

"What, no limo?"

"I didn't realize this was your dream date, Rabbit." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "And even if I wanted to spend a dime on you, stupid Grovely's practically starving me. Five bucks a week! What am I supposed to buy with that?"

Babs quickens her pace, thankful she decided to wear flats. "Oh dear, Monty, I weep for you."

"Yeah, weep for yourselves and your children, Ears."

This is going to be a long night.

Max surveys the room. It's very obvious he doesn't like school parties, as he's picked the clearest corner to lurk in and cringes from time to time when he notices something moronic going on.

"Don't drink the punch, some lamebrains just spiked it." Babs opens her mouth, and he groans. "In the slang sense. They didn't just drop an actual spike in it."

Babs frowns. "Ugh, we need to find Roderick and then we need to get out of here."

"I'm not having much of a party either, toots." After just one more scan of the room with his eyes, he points. "Over on the far right, sitting at a table." He leans a bit, putting his hand on the small of Babs' back and pushing her forward. "Go get 'em."

"Hey, wait!" She turns, and Monty's disappeared. She huffs and quickly forces herself to perk - well, no, not quite perk; mature, maybe - up, sauntering as gracefully as she can manage across the room.

Roderick is indeed sitting at a table, surrounded by his goons- er, friends. She puts on her most charming smile.

Minutes later, Babs returns to their original spot, Monty magically being there when she gets back. She's covered with about five cupfuls of punch.

"Looks like that went well."

Babs, for once, says nothing, simply spinning a few times and coming out punchless from head to toe. "Well, I guess I'll have to resort to plan B." She puts both hands behind her back, one immerging with a pie, the other with a bomb.

"Wait, wait, wait." Max licks his finger and puts the bomb out. "I like senseless violence as much as the next guy, but I'm pretty sure our cover will be blown if you start chucking bombs and screaming, 'Give us all your stupid magical football game-winning whatever-it-ises!'"

"Our cover's already blown. They recognized me in a second, and punched me before I could even open my mouth."

"Then we need to make sure we don't look like us. To the Perfectoids at least."

"And how are we going to do that?"

Max looks briefly worried, and then frowns. "You know, it's sad when an antagonist listens more in class than the protagonist."

"What are you talking about?"

"'Villians always fall for cheap disguises.' Ring a bell?"

"Oh!" Her eyes widen, then narrow. "Hold on, I've got an idea."

"About time, I was thinking nothing was going on in the pink little-" Babs grabs Max's hand and starts dragging him toward the bathroom. "Wait, what are we-"

Babs pins Monty to a wall, hand over his mouth, while she carefully locks the door. When she frees his mouth again, she instantly regrets it. "Listen, Babs, I don't like you like that. And I know you don't like me like that, so-"

She practically jumps away from him. "Shut up and close your eyes." She turns, pointing to her dress. "Oh, and can you help me get this thing off? Without looking."

"Really Babs, did they throw that spiked punch into your mouth or something because-"

"Just do it, okay? You'll see."

"I hope I won't." He closes his eyes, making a show of turning his head and sticking out his tongue as he undoes the back of her dress.

"Thank you. Now take off your pants."

"What?"

"Seriously, Monty, I would have thought you'd have more faith in me. I'm not going to do anything gross and I'm not drunk, I promise."

"Rabbit, you smell like some fruity alcoholic drink, you just took your dress off and you're trying to get me to take my pants off. Please tell me what's normal and not-drunk about this."

Babs groans, throwing the dress at Monty and doing a spin change. "You can open your eyes now."

He squints at first, surveying Babs, presumably to make sure she's covered before opening his eyes fully. "Why are you in that tuxedo?"

"Because you wouldn't give me yours. Now put on the dress."

"What?" Babs rushes over to him, putting her hand back over his mouth. She waits a moment to see if anyone had heard his scream.

"Just trust me and put it on."

He looks dismally at the dress and back at her.

"Close your stupid eyes if you want me to put this trash on already!"

Babs obeys. She wants to see Max stripped down to his skivvies just about as much as he wants to see her in the same condition.

"I can do spin changes, too, you know. I'm not a moron."

"I don't expect you to have enough fashion sense."

"Ugh." She takes that as a signal to open her eyes, and is, thankfully, correct.

Monty is slumped and scowling as he throws his clothes into his hammerspace. He looks like any mildly unattractive boy would in a dress. Babs straightens his shoulders and pushes up his chin a bit.

"Why Miss Montana, you're beautiful!" She frowns. "Actually, that's a little scary how well that fits you."

"Seriously, Rabbit, you starting puberty anytime soon?" He pokes at his chest area, were the dress is simply poofed a bit for frills and is otherwise completely fitting on him.

"Hardy har. Good thing your voice is girly enough already, I'd be afraid you couldn't make it any higher." Babs firmly plants her hands on Max's shoulders in an attempt to get him to stay still before pulling out some hair gel from her hammerspace. "I'm thinking spiky with some bangs on the front. Ooh, no, just bangs. Or maybe-"

"Do whatever you want to me. I'm done." Babs seems all too gleeful to obey. "What is this supposed to do, anyway?"

"You just need to get close to Roderick, get cozy with him. And then nab the whatever-it-is as soon as you can."

"Oh, great, I thought it'd be hard. Why can't you do this again?"

"Because he knows I'm here and they'll be expecting me. They'll never expect you. They'd maybe be expecting Buster or someone, too, but never you. You're normally not this cooperative."

"I've been told I mellow with age."

"Apparently."

"And just because I'm the bad guy doesn't mean I'm not a toon. Rule of Funny, Rabbit."

"Oh brother." She unlocks the door. "Yeah, you're a riot." With a simple push, she's got Monty out of the bathroom. "Go get 'em, gorgeous."

"Wait, Rabbit, I-"

Babs slams the door and locks it, cautiously putting an ear against it, wanting to hear what's going on but afraid Max will start yelling.

He doesn't, though, by some miracle.

In fact, things seem to quiet, if only a little bit.

"Hey there!"

When Monty hears a grovely, horrible, grating voice and feels a furry arm slide across his practically bare shoulders, he realizes he has no plan. At all.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone tonight?"

Well, he can't say he's too terribly displeased by how fast it worked. He tries his best to smile at Roderick and runs a hand through his hair (carefully minding the gel). Because girls do that a lot or something. "Oh, you know."

"Well, since you're not busy or anything, how about I introduce you to the top of the heap here at Perfecto?"

"Oh, well-"

"Of course." He begins walking, not moving his arm from around Max's shoulder. He just prays it doesn't slide down. "I'm assuming you're visiting. If such an exquisite sample of beauty graced the halls of my school, I would have noticed. And your name?"

"Ma-" whoa, wait, uh- "Maxine." Genius.

"Lovely name for a lovely dame."

Max has to hand it to Roderick, he sure knows how to try to get into a girl's pants.

When they arrive at Roderick's table, it's empty, save for Drake. He sits and inspects his punch glass, not looking up at them when he speaks. "The girls ran off to 'powder their noses' or something, which I'm sure means we won't see them for the rest of the night."

"Eh, they can stay gone. Drake, I'd like to introduce you to my new friend, Maxine. She's-"

In an instant, Max's shoulders are free from Roderick's arm, but his hands are enveloped in Drake's. "What are you doing hanging around that rat? He's bad news! What you should be doing is dancing with me, and maybe later we could-"

Monty is promptly yanked back into Roderick's arm. "Hey! I found her first!"

Drake grabs back. "Guess who's going to see her last tonight!"

Babs, having slid out of the bathroom to watch the shenanigans unfold, thoroughly enjoys the look on Monty's face as he's snatched back and forth between the two- frozen, flattered, confused horror.

"Hey, I, uh, I'm kind of hungry or thirsty or something."

"Sure, honey, anything!" Drake speeds off instantly.

"You no-good dame-stealing-" He seems to notice Monty still standing there and pulls out a chair for him. "Sit here while I go," he glares in the direction Drake went, "take care of something."

Monty obeys quite easily. He sits down and stares forward, contemplating his life and what he's done to bring himself to this moment in time. Trying to ignore the creeping realization that in order to get the whatever-it-is he'll probably - definitely- need to do some Roderick-touching. A horrifying amount of Roderick-touching.

"Hey there." Max looks up dismally, not quite recognizing the voice as well as he should. His eyes widen when he sees the grinning green duck, leaning with his forearm against the table, his face way too close to Max's.

"Plucky? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, so you know me already! Is that a good thing?" He seems to get closer. Max leans back.

"Wait, Duck, do you-"

"Sh sh sh!" He puts a finger over Max's lips. "You need not speak a word! I already know it was meant to be!"

"Duck, if you're-"

Plucky hops over the table, landing on his knees in front of Max.

"I know, my love! You a human, and I, a duck! But some day they'll accept our love! Some day they won't judge our feelings for one another."

"Plucky, please tell me you're joking."

Plucky ignores him or something, hopping to his feet and leaning against Max's chair. "So, whaddya say, toots? You, me, dance floor." He does this terrifyingly suggestive eyebrow raising thing. "Maybe something more?"

Monty frowns. It's not worth it. "I'm kind of busy, actually."

Plucky's face falls. "Oh. Well." He waves his hand. "Who needs you, anyway?" He begins walking away, looking downtrodden and glancing back for signs of remorse or pity on Monty's face every so often. In an instant, he's back next to Max. "Marry me!"

"Uh, no."

Plucky looks shocked. "What do you mean, 'no'? Wait, you said 'uh,' which means you're thinking about it! That means maybe! Do they make 'maybe' wedding invitations?"

Monty turns and looks for Babs, Roderick, heck, even Drake. He might've found one if Plucky hadn't placed his hands on his cheeks and, in a weirdly gentle way, guided his head back toward him. Max is stuck for a moment, smelling the duck's really nasty breath blowing across his face and praying he isn't going to try to do what he thinks he's going to try to do.

The duck opens his mouth, but immediately is knocked away from Max by something big and brown. Roderick glances around, mallet in hand, as if making sure there aren't any remaining suitors lurking about before putting it back in his hammerspace. He procures, somehow, two cups of punch and places them on the table.

"These are both for you."

Oh, joy, he's trying to get Max drunk.

Roderick then proceeds to lift Monty to a standing position by his waist, get behind him, sit, and drag Max back down, hands still gripping his hips. Max makes some strange surprised squeaking noises after each new development. He does his best to swallow the feeling of absolute horror as he moves around as well as he can to the most strategic, comfortable place on Roderick's lap as the rat holds his torso perpendicular to his own.

"So, you like football?"

Max straightens up a little at this. He puts a halting finger up, and Roderick looks at it, confused, until Monty leans forward, grabbing the spiked punch and downing the whole thing in one gulp. He then quite loosely falls back against Roderick's chest.

"Why, yes I do."

"Well then, I suppose you've heard about the game coming up and you'll be rooting for the Perfectos."

"Oh, sure." Roderick has a hand on Max's thigh. It's moving in this stroking fashion and Max really wants the second cup of punch. He wants five more cups of wonderful, alcohol-filled punch. Twenty. "I'm positive you've got something planned. Something, you know, secret weapon-y."

"Ooh, smart and pretty."

Max manages his best giggle. Rodrick's face is getting awfully close, and his breath is no better than Plucky's. Understandably, he pulls away again and reaches for the second cup.

"And you can hold your liquor."

No he can't. Max legitimately giggles and pokes Roderick's nose and wow this stuff is strong. "And I can keep a secret. Wanna tell me how you're gonna win it?"

"I've got this foolproof play," he takes Monty's hand and places it on the left side of his chest, patting it a bit. "right here." After some horrible leg-moving and hip-pulling, Roderick gets Monty in this weird horrible straddling position. He's giving him this smarmy, suggestive smirk. "Maybe I'll show you it. If you show me yours."

Max scoots back toward Roderick's knees, not very discreetly, and leans forward, giving yet another short giggle when his forehead touches Roderick's. He also swallows some vomit that rises in his mouth, but he's sure Roderick doesn't notice. He slides both of his hands into Roderick's breast pockets, trying to make sure the non-searching side stays matching to the other.

The instant his hand grabs onto the paper, he leaps out of Roderick's lap, quickly checking to make sure what's written on the paper is actually what he's looking for before hugging it tightly to his chest. "Haha!"

"Wait, Max?"

"That's right! Montana freaking Max!"

Monty expects Roderick to jump up and try to steal the paper from him, but instead the rat stills and stares forward, obviously contemplating his life and sexuality.

Babs appears, grabbing his arm. "You got it?" He shows it to her, and she grabs it and puts it in her hammerspace. "Alright then, let's go." She hooks arms with him in a very friendly fashion and begins walking away. Max stops short, though, and turns back to Roderick. Roderick lifts his head up dismally.

"I had a good time tonight, though!"

Babs grabs him again.

"Call me!"

Roderick's head falls into his hands.


End file.
